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“Yes, I s’pose we can listen to you scramble up and down the piano keys all night, but if I do anything it’s another story.” “Please did the lot hurt Joner when it fell?” queried a sober-minded seeker of truth. “How is your Ada since she had the jaundice, Mrs. Stolway?” inquired Airs. Bliggins..
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Conrad
Clarence had crossed the Pons Asinorum; a series of intoxicated circles, with sharp-cornered triangles piercing their fat sides, bore eloquent testimony to his faltering steps. By this time, Nell was struggling with a dish of hard underdone crab-apples. She chased a refractory apple round and round in its small dish. Finally, with a feeling of triumph, she brought the apple to a halt. Alas! it did not yield to the prodding of the spoon, but bounced up and with an accuracy worthy of a better cause, landed on the eye of Howard Eliot. Betty, all this time feasting her eyes on the new-comer, and enjoying the unusual opulence of the table, burst into hearty laughter. May Nell looked at him a minute before speaking. “You like doing things, but you don’t like work. Isn’t work doing things?” Billy thought he detected a touch of resigned disappointment in her words, and looked up with a sudden wonder widening his eyes, making them shine even in the dim light of the shaded lamp. “Do you want me to preach, mamma?”.
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